


The Infiltrator

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: When the reader ends up at the Sanctuary after a fight with Rick, she decides to make the best of a bad situation and use her new position to find a way for Alexandria to win the war.  But, with her home and her people unaware of her plan, she’s playing a dangerous game.  And how will her partner, Daryl, react when he finds out she’s been sleeping with the enemy?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from @moraglefay on Tumblr based on one of her crazy dreams. 
> 
> ‘There we go with my weird dream: So I was in TWD world and I used to be in Rick’s group but now I was one of Negan’s wives (mind you, I’m afraid I’m not a Negan fan so it wasn’t that pleasant for me) however my job was not only be a pretty wive I also did things around the Sanctuary as a Saviour. Plot twist I was actually an infiltrate triyng to mess things up for Negan, break them from the inside as much as I could and eventually inform about things at the Sanctuary to my previous group (so it was like a crossover between being a wife and Dwight?) Problem was, not even my previous group knew I was an infiltrate, I wanted to protect them and also keep things as real as possible, so I was all the time scared about them finding I was Negan’s wife now and thinking I had betrayed them for real. And also, Negan and some of the Saviours were slowly starting to suspect I might be an infiltrated enemy. So, for a “reader fic” purpose and also angsty purposes I woke up thinking that it’d be great if said wife had a relationship with Daryl before going to the Sanctuary so on top of her being worried about her group thinking her a traitor, she would also worried about Daryl thinking she not only betrayed him but also abandoned him (for Negan not less).’

It was all wrong.  The mouth on yours was velvety soft, short salt and pepper stubble scratching at your cheeks as the kiss deepened, a deep purr rumbling from the chest of your husband.  Everything about it was still unfamiliar and uncomfortable, and yet you forced breathy pants from your lips, enough to satisfy him that you wanted this, needed it.  Long, thin fingers danced over your skin, exploring, testing, teasing.  The weight on top of you was lighter than you were used to, distributed more evenly, the rhythm smoother, more well-practiced. You hated this.  The kiss you craved was all chapped-lips and ticklish scruff, the hands knowing you well enough to not need this elaborate show to bring you to the edge.  Broad shoulders, a barrel chest, tapering down to narrow hips that rolled against you, less confident but infinitely better than this.  

_Daryl Dixon._

God, how you wished it was him mapping your body, eliciting uncontrolled whimpers from you as he brought you to pieces again and again.  This was toxic, dangerous.  You weren’t sure how you’d ended up here.  It had happened so quickly.  There hadn’t been time to think about anything and now you were in deeper than you’d ever imagined and it was all too much.  What would the archer say if he could see you now, spread-eagled beneath the writhing body of his enemy?  This man had killed Abraham and Glenn.  He’d terrorised the Hilltop and you’d seen Dwight’s face, knew what sort of punishments he was capable of dealing out.  And yet… you were his wife.  You’d joined the harem of ladies that catered to his every need, and boy, was he needy.  This was the fourth night this week that you’d been summoned to his quarters, and every muscle in your body was screaming at you to run but you couldn’t.  You were too far in to this now. You had to make it count.

As the movements on top of you faltered and stilled, you couldn’t help the shudder that ran through you, covering it with a soft laugh and a gentle kiss as Negan rolled to the side, allowing you to breathe more freely as the air rushed in to cool the sweat that coated your skin.

‘Well, shit, doll,’ he mumbled, reaching out to wrap an arm around you and pull you against him, nuzzling in to your hair and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.  ‘That just gets better every fucking time, right?’

‘Definitely,’ you husked, lifting your head so that you could meet his lips again, feeling him grin against your mouth as his tongue traced your bottom lip.  

‘Am I the best you’ve ever had?’  His eyes were flashing with arrogance as he waited for you to respond, unable to resist the temptation to taunt you a little more.  ‘Better than the redneck dick?’

‘Of course.’  You almost choked on the words.   _No!_ you screamed inside your head.   _You’re a bastard and every time you touch me I want to die._   ‘Best I’ve ever had, baby.’

You itched to slap the self-satisfied expression from his face, but settled instead for burying your own in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply and trying to pretend that it was the scent of cigarettes and engine oil that filled your nose, instead of the musky cologne that Negan always wore.  Where he found the damn stuff in the apocalypse you weren’t sure, but that was your husband – always immaculately turned out, hair slicked back, clothes clean and neatly pressed.  You supposed it was one of the perks of having an army of people to do your bidding: more time to focus on the superficial things in life.

You trailed your fingers over his chest absentmindedly as your thoughts drifted back to Daryl, and he caught your hand, holding it in his as he sighed contentedly.  ‘Making you a wife was the best damn thing I ever did, kitten, even if you are stubborn as fuck.  Totally worth it.’

He was referring, you knew, to your absolute refusal to give up your role at the Sanctuary at the same time that you donned the little black dress that marked you as Negan’s.  It had been a constant source of friction between you since you’d accepted his proposal, but he needed someone that he could trust, more fool him, and you needed the access that your job gave you and so it was settled.  You’d been stepped down, of course, from your position as an active Savior.  It was one thing for him to allow you to continue to work, but quite another for you to be in the line of fire, particularly in the midst of a war, but in actual fact the task he’d found for you had suited you better anyway.  You were a runner.  The Sanctuary’s supplies were stored in a massive space at the bottom of the building, and you were one of a small group responsible for ensuring that they got where they needed to be, whether that be the doctor’s office, the kitchens, the market place… It meant that you could be found pretty much anywhere and have a decent excuse to explain your presence there, and that was exactly what you needed.  Your predecessor had been caught stealing, squirreling a little away on each run until he had quite the little black market supply going, but Negan had put a stop to that.  He trusted you to ensure that it wouldn’t happen again.  After all, you wouldn’t betray him that way, would you?

An infiltrator.  That’s what you were.  A double agent.  A spy.

Three months ago, Negan had found you wandering the streets of a small abandoned village maybe thirty miles of so from the Sanctuary.  You’d stormed out of Alexandria after an argument with Rick, a reckless and stupid mistake, and gotten yourself lost trying to make your way to the Kingdom to find Daryl.  You couldn’t believe that Rick had known he was alive and hadn’t brought him home to you. You’d launched yourself at him, lost in your rage as you scratched and kicked at the your leader, and it had taken Carl and Aaron to drag you away.  And then you’d turned on your heel and flounced out, regardless of the fact that you had no supplies and only a knife for protection.

When Negan stumbled across you with his men, you were deftly dispatching a group of walkers that had rounded the corner in front of you and quickly surrounded you, and evidently he’d seen value in your fighting skills as the next thing you knew you were riding up front with the boss.  He hadn’t recognised you at first, probably a good thing as if he had you would have bet he’d have put a bullet through your skull or thrown you in a cell to rot, and by the time he’d placed you, you’d already proven your worth, working hard and starting to climb the ladder.

‘I need to know where your fucking loyalties lie,’ he’d hissed, his eyes dark, his face contorted into a dangerous glower.  ‘How do I know you aren’t here gathering intel for Rick the prick, huh?’

And you’d smiled sweetly, and rolled your eyes.  ‘Rick threw me the hell out in the middle of a war, Negan.  I don’t owe that man anything.  Kill ‘em all if you must.  I literally couldn’t care less.’

You still couldn’t really believe it had been that easy.  He’d had his men tail you for a couple of weeks just to make sure you weren’t sneaking out or engaging in any suspicious activity, and they must have told him what he wanted to hear as shortly after you were presented with the little black skater dress that was now draped over the chair in the corner of his bedroom. That proposal had taken the wind out of your sails, that was for sure.  It was one thing to keep a close eye on the comings and goings and try to pick up on any information that might be of use to the Safe Zone, but it was quite another to climb into bed with the devil.  It made sense though, and so you found yourself saying yes, and here you now were.  

The thing about being an infiltrator was that it was really damn hard to pass information to people that didn’t know you were on their side.  You hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone from Alexandria or the Hilltop since Negan had scooped you up and taken you to your new home, and you were guessing that they may well think you’d turned on them if they knew where you’d ended up. You’d been so furious that it wouldn’t have been totally unthinkable.  Except, as much as you may have been tempted to turn on Rick, there was no way in hell you could do that to Daryl.

 _Because sleeping with the enemy is so much better._   

Negan threw the blankets back, letting a cool draft of air rush in, raising goosebumps over your skin.  ‘Better go, sweetheart.  Daddy’s got work to do.’

_Interesting._

‘What are you doing today?’ you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, keeping your expression vacant as you picked at your thumbnail, worrying away at a rough bit that kept catching on the sheets.  ‘You going out?’

‘Yep.’  He was dressing, rolling his jeans up long legs until he could fasten them around his slim hips, buckling the belt to hold them in place.  ‘Gotta put up a strong front with all this shit kicking off.  Need to let the other communities know that the Saviors are still fucking number one.’

‘Where are you headed?’

He glanced over at you and you stretched luxuriously, relying on his wandering gaze to distract him from overthinking your questions. Sure enough his eyes roamed over you hungrily, and you almost thought for a moment that he might rejoin you on the bed, but instead he reached for a t-shirt and eased it over his head.  ‘North.  Might be a long day.  I wouldn’t count on me being back before dark.’

 _North?_   Your mind whizzed through the possibilities but you were coming up blank.  Not Alexandria then, and not Hilltop either. You weren’t sure on the location of the Kingdom, but you were pretty sure it was to the south.  You knew of another couple of smaller groups that provided the Saviors with supplies in return for protection, but they were out east.  So, there were more communities living under Negan’s rule than you thought.  That was worth knowing.  More people meant more allies, potentially, but if he was going to be out for that long it meant that they were a fair distance away.  You wondered if there would be any more intel in the large mahogany desk that stood in the head Savior’s office.  You’d raided it pretty thoroughly already, copying down anything that was of interest and stashing it under your mattress ready to be passed to the relevant parties when the opportunity arose, but there was a locked drawer that you hadn’t managed to break in to yet.  

 _Today_ , you promised yourself.   _I’ll do it today while he’s out._

‘What about you, sweet cheeks?’  Negan was standing over you now, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, a gentle smile softening his features.  ‘You working today?’

You nodded.  ‘Start my shift in an hour.’

‘Well, use my shower before you leave, alright?’  He leant down to capture your mouth in a sloppy kiss, and you forced a moan from your throat, lacing your fingers into his hair as though you couldn’t bear for him to leave. ‘It’ll give me some nice fucking mental images for the long ride.’

Another short, sharp kiss and he was gone, slipping out of the door and leaving you to your thoughts. You dragged your hand over your lips, wiping away any trace of him, and sat up to take a long drink of water from the glass on the bedside table.  It wasn’t enough.  It never was. You could still taste him, and you knew that you’d be able to smell him on you long after you’d showered.  He was penetrating every aspect of your life and it was exhausting and stomach-churning and awful.  

Flopping back against the pillows again, you squeezed your eyes shut and pictured your real love, the man you wished you could actually call your husband, but you had the feeling Daryl wasn’t the marrying type.  He was mysterious, aloof, even with you, and you longed for him to let you in as openly as he did sometimes in the dark of the night when he woke from a nightmare and whispered hushed secrets to you about his past and his fears.  But by morning, those confidences were pushed back down, and, though he was always kind to you, loving, he held you at a distance, just like he did everyone else.  Well, not anymore.  You swore that if, -  _no, when_ , you chided yourself - when you got back to him, you would lay your cards on the table.  You needed him, all of him.  The time apart only made you realise that more with every passing day.

But what would he think of you if he could see you now?  You’d seen real hatred in his eyes before and you couldn’t imagine the pain you would feel if that look was turned on you.  How would you react if the roles were reversed, you wondered.  You’d be hurt, angry, devastated…  But could you forgive him?  You liked to think so, but honestly, you weren’t sure.  You loved him, but…  Whichever way you painted it, cheating was cheating, and you had cheated a lot.  Whatever your reasons, you weren’t sure it was justifiable.  Hell, you were assuming that you’d even have the chance to explain yourself.  If Rick caught sight of you at Negan’s side he’d put you down before you could utter a word, and then it wouldn’t matter what Daryl thought because you’d be dead and it would all be over.  

The only way you could make this work, ensure that Daryl would understand and that Rick would somehow trust you again, was to find something useful, vital, something Alexandria could use to win.  

With a deep sigh, your eyes flickered open once more, and you glanced at the clock that hung on the wall of Negan’s bedroom.  Time to get ready for work.  And, if you were going to help your people win this war, there was a lot of work to do.


	2. Chapter 2

You spent a long time in the shower, scrubbing your skin clean and wishing you could do the same to your soul.  As the steam rose around you, you imagined leaning back against a broad chest as strong arms wrapped around your waist, hot breath on your neck as the archer held you close, trailing his fingers over your hips and painting patterns in the soap suds, but when you stepped out onto the bathroom tiles, it was still Negan’s scent that lingered.  You towel dried your hair, fighting back the wave of emotion that hit you as your longing for Daryl became almost too much to bear. How long had it been since you’d last seen him?  Too long. What had he been through in that time? You didn’t like to think about it. You’d seen the cells, smelt the pervading odour of human waste and hopelessness that hung heavy on the lower levels of the building, pressed your fingers to the tacky pools of blood that stained the concrete floors, and it made your heart hurt.

Only the knowledge that you needed to make the best of your impossible situation motivated you to hang up your towel and dress yourself - jeans, tank top, hair pulled into a messy ponytail – and get on with your mission.  You had hours of time stretching ahead of you, time with no Negan and very few Saviors in the building, and you had to spend them wisely.  It wasn’t often these days that he’d go out with his men, relying on his lieutenants and choosing instead to monitor operations from the Sanctuary, and it had made your job increasingly difficult.  If you didn’t get in to that locked desk drawer today, there was no telling when you’d get another chance.

Slipping from the bedroom into the office, you took a seat in the large leather chair behind the desk, rifling through the piles of paperwork on the mahogany surface to check if there was any new intel that might be of use, finding only inventories and guard rotas.  Your fingers trailed over the smooth wood until you found the lip of the drawer, tugging on it lightly and finding, unsurprisingly, that it was still secure.  Back before the world ended, it would have been easy – a quick twist and click with a hair grip and you’d be in, but now…  You didn’t know anyone with the luxury of hair styling these days. Your own was caught up with an old shoelace!  Not much use for picking locks.  

Your eyes roamed over the desk again, falling on a thin silver letter opener.  Who in the hell got mail these days?  You grabbed for it, sliding it into the crevice at the side of the drawer and running it along the gap, praying that you’d manage to somehow flick the lock open. No such luck.  It was an old desk, the mechanism stiff and rusted, and no matter how much you fiddled with the long piece of metal, it refused to budge.

You huffed in frustration, your gaze drifting to the small cabinet in the corner which you knew housed Negan’s personal collection of handguns.  That wasn’t locked, you’d discovered on a previous exploration of the office, you assumed to allow him quick and easy access when needed.  One blast from one of those and the damn drawer would open, but Negan would know that the information had been compromised.  You couldn’t let that happen.

You slid the chair back, pushing yourself to your feet, and wandering back into the bedroom, scanning for anything that might help you.  You guessed what would really help would be the key.  Would Negan have hidden the key somewhere in his quarters?  Or would he have it on him?  You supposed that depended on the value of whatever he had locked away.  Approaching his dresser, you pulled open the top drawer, rifling through the neatly folded t-shirts for anything that might be tucked away in the soft fabric, trying to leave them unrumpled so as not to arouse suspicion.  You worked your way through every drawer and cupboard in the room, coming up empty every time, until you noticed a space under the bedside table on Negan’s side of the bed.  Dropping to your knees, you eased your hand into the gap, feeling blindly until your fingers brushed against cool metal and you grasped on to it, dragging it out into the daylight.  It was a patchily-painted tin, which you guessed would have contained biscuits or something once upon a time, but was now aged and dented, the decoration worn away as though someone had spent long nights smoothing their hands over it.

It opened easily, and your breath caught in your throat as you were faced with masses of photographs, almost all of them containing the same woman.  She was beautiful – big, dark eyes and ruby red lips, olive skin and a curtain of dark hair that fell in waves over her shoulders.  In some of them, Negan was at her side, beaming at her, a look of affection in his eyes that you’d never seen.  He looked calm, relaxed, happy.  So, maybe he had been a good man, before; a man worthy of love.

You gave yourself a mental shake, pushing your curiosity to the back of your mind, unable to contain your cry of success when your fingers found the sharp metal of a key in the bottom of the container.  

Abandoning the pictures, you practically skipped back to the desk, inserting the key into the lock and breathing a sigh of relief when it fit, eventually turning when you applied a little brute force.  The drawer slid open, and you retrieved the stack of papers inside, balancing them on your knees as you flicked through them, trying to figure out what they showed.

There were maps, several of them in fact, showing everything an attacking army would need to know to bring the Sanctuary to its knees.  One detailed the locations of the various outposts; another showed the communities that the Sanctuary had under its control.  There were more than you thought, a lot more, and you could only hope that they were as disgruntled by the system as your own people.  They must be, you told youself.  Negan controlled through fear, which would mean blood had been spilled as part of the takeover process.  They would fight, if Rick could only reach them.

A battered manila folder gave more detail – how many people resided at each outpost, what areas they controlled, the arms they’d been provided with to protect themselves.

It was a small paper goldmine, and you found yourself with a new determination as you folded them carefully, wrapping them around your lower calf and zipping your boot up, checking that they were hidden from view.  You had to find a way to get these to Alexandria.  This intel could change everything.

 

* * *

 

You sauntered into the warehouse a little while later, with an undeniable swagger to your step, having taken great care to leave everything in Negan’s quarters as you found it.  You finally felt like you were getting somewhere, like all of this had been worthwhile, like maybe you had enough now to redeem yourself to Rick and Daryl when you eventually made it back to them.

‘You’re late.’

Your manager’s tone was harsh, his gaze steely as he waited for an explanation.  From what you’d heard,  Tony was usually pretty laidback, but he’d taken a dislike to you when he’d found out that you were a wife, not liking the special treatment that you were granted due to your close personal relationship with the boss.  In his eyes, wives should be seen and not heard, locked away in their boudoir where they could strut around in their little black dresses and skyscraper heels to their hearts content; not taking up space on his warehouse staff.  It didn’t matter how hard you worked, he just didn’t have any time for you, so you’d taken to treating him with the same cool disdain.

‘Am I?’  You stepped around the corner of the shelf to better address him, only to find yourself face-to-face with Frankie and Tanya who were both regarding you with disgust.  You gave them a smug smile, nodding in greeting.  ‘Sorry, Tone, the boss was keeping me kinda busy.  Some mornings he just won’t let me out of the bed.  You know what that’s like, right, ladies?’

They didn’t.  For the most part, Negan would visit his wives in their quarters rather than invite them in to his, preferring to keep his space private.  However, your refusal to give up work was matched with your stubborn insistence that you remain in the workers dorms, so if Negan wanted you, he had to let you in to his room, to his bed.  It was the only time you wore the dress, when you climbed the stairs each evening that he summoned you, clutching a pile of clothes to your chest for the morning, knowing that he’d want you to stay.  You still weren’t sure why he let you get away with making the rules for your relationship, if you could really call it that, but you weren’t going to question it the whole time it was making your life easier.

The scowl on Frankie’s face darkened, and she flicked her hair over her shoulder, drumming her long, manicured nails on the nearest shelf.  ‘Whatever. He’ll get bored of you soon.  He always falls hard for the newbies, but he’ll go back to his old favourites in a week or two.  Always does.’

‘You mean Sherry, right?’  You nodded.  ‘Yeah, he mentioned something about her scratching a certain itch.  Girl must be double-jointed or something.’

He’d mentioned no such thing, but you knew the wives gave him a hard time as they jostled for position in the hierarchy, and it gave you great satisfaction to create friction within these walls.

Predictably, both Frankie and Amber made a hasty exit, and Tony shook his head at your cattiness.  ‘You women ain’t nothing but trouble.  Should keep the whole damn bunch of you locked up on the top floor where you belong.’  

‘I can see what Negan means now,’ you muttered under your breath as you went to move past him, wincing when his hand shot out to grab your wrist, halting you in your steps.

‘You what?’ he challenged, though there was a tremor in his tone that revealed his instant discomfort.  ‘What does Negan mean?’

‘He just mentioned a bit of a switch around of staff, that’s all.  Said some of his managers are getting too opinionated, starting to think they run the show.’

‘He’s demoting people?’

You shrugged.  ‘Maybe. He didn’t say anything specific, but I get the feeling there are changes coming.’

More bullshit, but you knew it would play on his mind for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

The knock on your door came in the early hours, and you stretched wearily as you slipped into your dress and donned your heels. You were groggy with sleep, and not in the mood, but it was more than your life was worth to refuse.  You wondered how successful his day had been, but in all honesty you were too tired to care.

When you slipped into his quarters, Negan was already in the bedroom, and he called you through, giving you a contented smile when you appeared in the doorway.  He was reclining on top of the covers, bare-chested, the buckle of his belt undone, his hair mussed as though he’d been running his fingers through it. He was handsome, you thought. Shame he was a psychopath.

‘Come here, doll.’  You obeyed, sashaying towards him, until he held up a hand to signal you to stop.  ‘Stay there. Undress for me.  Slowly.’

So, he was in the mood for games.  Just what you needed.  But you couldn’t deny him, so your fingers went to the hem of your dress, easing it slowly up over your hips, revealing your lingerie-clad body inch by inch until you could pull it over your head and let it fall to the floor.

Again, you moved to go to him, but he shook his head. ‘And the shoes.’

At your look of confusion – he usually liked you to keep your heels on, at least for the foreplay - he gestured to the bedding, giving you an apologetic grimace.  ‘Clean sheets.’

You nodded, leaning down to unbuckle the clasp around your ankle, your gaze drifting as you slipped your foot from its leather casing, almost unable to hold in your gasp of horror.

There, under the bed, was a single photograph, Negan and the dark-haired woman beaming at the camera with their arms around each other.  Had it fallen out of the tin when you’d retrieved the key?  How had you missed it?  You’d been so careful to clean up after yourself, making sure there was no sign that you’d been there at all.  Had Negan seen it?  There was nothing you could do about it now.  You’d only draw attention to it if you tried to subtly remove it.  You’d just have to ensure that you kept him distracted and deal with it when he finally let himself sleep.

Removing your other shoe, you gave him a tight smile, trying hard to force yourself to relax.  ‘You ready for me now, baby?’

He reached out a hand to you, and you crawled onto the bed, trying to ignore the fact that your heart was hammering in your chest.  ‘That’s right, sweetheart.  Come to daddy.   I think you’ve been bad.’


	3. Chapter 3

‘Get up.’

You blinked blearily as your shirt hit you in the face, closely followed by your jeans as Negan continued to throw your clothes onto the bed.  You’d finally drifted off as the sun was rising, having laid awake for most of the night, tossing and turning, convinced that he knew what you’d done. He’d been rough with you when you’d joined him last night, hurting you more than you’d care to admit, and you were sure that your skin would be painted with bruises were you to look in the mirror.  It wasn’t like him.  Sure, he liked to play, but he’d always taken care of you before, whereas this had felt more like a battle for supremacy.  He was so on to you.

‘What are you doing?’ You rubbed your hand over your eyes, watching as he paced like a caged animal, back and forth across the room, glancing over at you impatiently.  Playing dumb seemed like your only option, so you frowned at him, and let your bottom lip jut out in a pout.  ‘I’m tired, Negan.  Come back to bed.’

‘Sorry, doll.’  His eyes flashed as he gave you a sadistic smile. ‘No can do.  We’re going on a little road trip today, just you, me and my best guys, and we’re gonna be late if you don’t get your ass up right now.’

‘What?’  Now you really were confused.  You hadn’t been allowed to leave the complex since you’d agreed to become a wife.  Were you being promoted to the front lines again?  ‘Where are we going?’

And then the sadistic smile made sense, and your certainty that he knew exactly what you’d been doing multiplied.  ‘Alexandria.’

Your stomach knotted and you felt your cheeks reddening as you tried to remain calm.  This couldn’t be good.  If Negan was taking you back home, that meant he had a point to prove. Was he going to parade you as his wife? Rub it in Daryl’s face?  Or was he just taking you there to kill you on your knees in front of everybody you loved?  Or worse, kill someone else in your place?  You couldn’t breathe thinking about it, and you forced yourself to inhale deeply.   _Just keep moving_ , you told yourself.   _Bra, shirt, pants…  Get up, get dressed, then deal with what’s coming._

You swung your legs out of bed, wriggling into your panties, before pushing yourself to your feet. Negan caught your hand as you moved to retrieve the t-shirt that was now sprawled over the covers.

‘Oh, sweetheart, that looks sore as shit.’  He studied the bruises on your wrist, before reaching for your other arm and inspecting that one too.  ‘Guess they’ll serve as a reminder to you, huh?’

You yanked yourself away from his firm grip and continued to dress, an icy silence falling over you. So, last night had been about making it known that he was angry, that he knew about your betrayal.  You wondered now what he would have done had you asked him to stop at any point.  Would he have accepted your surrender or just kept going?  It didn’t bear thinking about.  

‘Ready?’  Negan’s tone was cool as you zipped up your boots and stood.

‘I just need to go by my room and grab my pack.’  

‘Fine.’  He nodded once, waving his hand as though to dismiss you. ‘I’ll meet you at the truck.  Five minutes, Y/N, then I’m tracking you down and dragging your ass to the gates.’

You flew down the stairs two at a time, your heart in your mouth as you tried to figure out how to deal with this turn of events.  Your only hope was that at some point, before he killed you or carried out whatever perverse punishment he had in mind, you’d find a way to get those documents to Rick. Otherwise it would all have been for nothing.

Bursting into your room, you fell to your knees by your bed, reaching under the mattress and feeling for the papers you’d tucked away there the night before.  You’d been scared for a moment that Negan would have sent one of his men to retrieve them, but they were exactly where you’d left them, and you slid them into your boot as you had done the previous morning, ensuring they were hidden and that the zip was still done up tight.  Grabbing your pack from the chair by the window, you checked that it was stocked with cereal bars and a couple of bottles of water, before clipping your knife to your belt and heading out the door.

_Time to face the music._

 

* * *

 

You’d spent the drive crammed between Negan’s warm, tense body and the sweaty flesh of the driver, so that you were almost relieved when the truck rolled to a halt outside of Alexandria’s gates.  It had been a long time since you’d seen them last, and you felt tears spring to your eyes at the familiarity of home.  God, you’d missed this place: Rick’s bow-legged walk, Rosita’s take-no-shit glare, and Michonne’s easy laugh as she watched Judith playing or toddling about.   And Daryl.  God, you missed Daryl.  Would he be here, you wondered, or was he still hidden away at the Kingdom?  You weren’t sure which would be best.  You couldn’t stand the thought of maybe never laying eyes on him again, but the idea of him being present to witness your betrayal made you feel sick.

‘Knock knock!’  Negan announced his presence with a lazy shout and the rattle of Lucille against the metal bars of the gate.  ‘Look alive, people.  You’ve got visitors!’

Silence, and then finally movement as the gate rolled slowly to the side and Rick stepped in to view.  You were still in your seat, frozen in place by the sheriff’s steely gaze as he surveyed the gathered Saviors.

‘Hey, Rick.  What’s the deal?  I thought for a goddamn second there that you weren’t gonna open up for me and my guys.’

Rick shifted uncomfortably, his hand resting on his empty holster, as he avoided the taller man’s eyes, staring instead at the ground.  You hated seeing him like this, so defeated.  It made you hate Negan all the more.

‘We were having a meeting.’

‘Oh, yeah?  Anything I need to know about.’

‘Nah.  Just talking ‘bout new areas to scope out for supply runs.  Surrounding towns are running dry.’

‘Well, that’s what I like to hear!’  Negan’s voice was booming in the quiet of the community.  ‘You guys are gonna end up being my best providers, I just know it. You literally keep going the extra mile.’

The exchange was drawing people from the church where they’d obviously been gathered, drifting out into the street where they eyed the invaders with suspicion and dislike.  You scanned the faces, recognising most, but still not finding the one you needed to see.

‘Well, I hope you don’t mind,’ Negan continued.  ‘But I brought someone to see you today.  I think you guys have met, but she sure was nervous about coming back here.’

He held out a hand to the truck, motioning for you to join him, and you gritted your teeth, jumping out with a muffled thud as your boots hit the dirt, and moving to stand at his side.

‘Y/N?’  Rick’s voice was disbelieving, his expression unreadable as he looked you up and down.  For a moment you were glad of the bruises that covered your arms, hoping that it might look like you’d been tortured or beaten into switching sides, but then Negan drove the knife in further, snaking an arm around your waist and leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to your forehead.  

‘Alive and kicking.  Bet y’all thought she was long gone, right?’  He shoved you forwards, waiting whilst you took several stumbling steps towards your old leader.  ‘Go ahead, darlin’.  Place is ours, remember.  Take whatever the fuck you want!’

You could feel daggers of hatred piercing your skin as you kept your head down and somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other, heading down the road as the people around you parted to let you through.  You didn’t know where you were going, just that you needed to put some distance between you and Negan, find somewhere to leave the intel where you knew that Rick would find it.  You had to get rid of it now.  You knew this was nowhere near over.

As the voices receded into the background, you made a snap decision and jogged up the steps of Rick’s front porch, letting yourself inside and closing the door quietly behind you. Climbing the stairs, your feet took you on autopilot to Judith’s room, quaintly decorated with any childish knickknacks that the gang found out on the road.  Her crib stood in one corner, the smell coming from it sweet and musty, and you found yourself reaching for the soft, pink blanket that she slept with, holding it to your nose and inhaling deeply.  How many nights had you sat with that little girl cradled in your arms after Lori had died?  Rick had barely been able to look after himself, let alone a baby, so you, Beth and Carol had split her care between you.  She must be getting so big now, you thought.  They grew so fast at that age.  She probably wouldn’t even know who you were anymore.

Movement on the street below caught your eye through he window, and you saw that a group of Saviors were heading your way.  You wrestled with the paperwork for a moment before it came free from its leather protection, sliding it under Judith’s pillow, before steeling yourself and heading for the door.  

Your exit was blocked.

Negan leaned against the frame, Lucille held aloft in front of him as he pressed his finger to one of her metal barbs.  ‘Well, lookie what we have here.’

He let out a long, low whistle, shaking his head as he took a step towards you.  ‘You know, this was your last chance to prove that you could be fucking trusted.  And guess what, doll – you blew it!’

‘Negan, I-‘  He cut you off, waving his vicious weapon dangerously close to your face.

‘I don’t wanna hear it!  Did you really think you’d get away with it?  Did you really think I’d ever fucking trust you?’

‘You married me.’

‘Ever heard of the old saying about keeping your enemies close, kitten?’  He smirked, though you could see his anger in the tightness of his jaw.  ‘You know every time you tried to stir up shit with my wives, they came to me.  Every time you tried to undermine my authority, I heard about it.  And when you start snooping through my shit, you can bet your ass I’m gonna fucking know!  Nothing happens in that building without me knowing about it!  Not one damn thing!’

You were shaking, terrified in the face of his uncontrolled rage.  His face was red, his voice growing louder with every word until he was yelling at you, his arms swinging wildly, sending you cowering backwards every time Lucille got close.

‘I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d prove yourself to me here.  I thought that when you saw what useless, pathetic losers I’d made of your old community, you’d have realised that you had it better with me, but you’re just too fucking stupid to get it, aren’t you?  Alexandria belongs to me, everything in it belongs to me, and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it!’

That was it, you thought, your out.  Your chance to try and smooth things over, and you held the baby blanket in front of you like a peace offering, waiting until Negan’s breathing had become less erratic before delivering your next lie.  ‘You told me to take what I wanted.  I-I always loved sleeping with the baby in my arms, and I… I thought it would be nice to have this under my pillow.  I miss her, Negan.  I wanted to watch her grow up.’

He had a soft spot for kids, you knew that, had seen it when he’d sat out on Rick’s front porch with the little girl on his knee, cooing at her like she was the apple of his eye.  

He was watching you closely, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip.  You could see him debating internally whether you were for real or not, and you forced your eyes open as wide as they would go, tears spilling over and running down your cheeks as you took a tentative step towards him.  ‘I love you, Negan.  You know I do.  I wouldn’t throw away what we have for any of this.  You’re right, I was stupid.  I’ve been so… conflicted.  But I get it now, and I’m sorry, baby.  I’m really sorry.’

‘What did you put under the fucking pillow?’

‘A letter.’  Your story was coming easily now, flowing from your mouth as you watched him begin to soften.  ‘I want her to know who I am.  I looked after her for so long, and I thought I might not ever see her again.  I just need her to know how incredibly loved she is, that’s all.  I thought… maybe Rick or Michonne might give it to her one day, when she’s old enough.’

Another step forward, and Negan’s hand found your shoulder, the pressure varying as though he was unsure whether he wanted to comfort you or rip you limb from limb.  ‘You know I’ve gotta shut this shit down, right?’

‘I know,’ you sniffled. ‘I know.  It makes you look weak and I’m sorry.  I never meant for any of this to happen.’

At last, his arms opened to you, and you stepped into his embrace, feeling the tension leave his body as he held you close.  And then, just as quickly as he’d melted, his hand laced into your hair and yanked your head back, holding you in place as he loomed over you, his face just millimetres from yours.  ‘If I ever hear so much as a fucking whisper of you taking one damn step out of line, I will beat your ass into the ground and chain you to the fucking fence.  Do you understand?’

You nodded, whimpering as the action pulled on your hair.

‘I said, do you fucking understand me, Y/N?’

‘Get away from her.’ The southern drawl that came from the doorway was low and dangerous, and you sprang away from Negan like you’d been burned.  Daryl stood before you, his arm raised, a handgun clenched white-knuckle tight in his fist.  

‘Hey, look, everybody!  It’s Daryl!’  Negan’s forced jollity was belied by his stance, poised on the balls of his feet, ready to fight.  ‘Shit, I missed you, you know that?  We got a fucking abundance of dog food in the warehouse since you left. It’s taking up half the damn shelves!’

The archer growled, adjusting his grip on the pistol.  ‘Get the fuck out o’ here.’

‘Remember who you’re talking to,’ Negan warned.  The two men were circling each other now, and you backed into the corner, dropping into a low crouch, unsure whether to scream or run or throw yourself in the middle of the brawl that was about to break out.  ‘Besides, I’m not going anywhere without my favourite wife.’

Daryl launched himself across the room, letting loose a shot that grazed Negan’s arm, eliciting a soft, grunt of pain.  They hit the ground hard, the gun skidding out of reach, both wrestling for control, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room as fists lashed out and found their targets.  You heard a clatter of wood as Lucille fell to the floor, before Daryl snatched her up and swung the bat in a short arc downwards, narrowly missing Negan’s skull.  The taller man managed to roll the archer to the side, scrambling to his feet, his gaze fixed on his precious Lucille.

You could smell the testosterone, mixing with the coppery tang of blood in the air, and when another shot rang out, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Rick stood, Daryl’s fallen gun pointed at the ceiling, where a chunk of plaster was now missing.  He was breathing hard, looking more a leader in that moment than he had done for a long while as he stared down the two fighters. He turned to Negan, his voice full of venom as he ordered, ‘Get out.’

‘What’s the matter, Rick?  Finally grown some full-sized man balls?’  Negan’s voice was shaky though, and he was clutching his arm, obviously in pain as he wavered on the spot.  

‘I said get out, Negan.  You’ve caused enough damage for one day.’

He was about to argue again, launch another attack, you could see it in his eyes, but then an ear-piercing shriek ripped through the air and you stepped forward to see Judith cradled to Michonne’s chest where she stood in the corridor, the child terrified by the atmosphere that hung over the room.  

Your gaze flicked back to Negan who was obviously calculating his next move, when the thundering footsteps of his men sounded on the stairs.  

‘Boss?  What’s going on?’  

He shook his head, unable to look away from the little girl as she cried.  ‘Nothing.  We’re leaving.’

‘Already?  We were just boxing up the meds when we heard-‘

‘I said we’re leaving!  Pack up whatever shit you’ve got and load it into the trucks!  Move!’

As they retreated, Negan moved towards Rick, his usually tall body crumpled from the blows he’d taken. ‘This isn’t fucking over, Rick.  I’ll be back, and when I am somebody is gonna pay for this shit.’

He turned back to Daryl, wrenching Lucille from his grasp, and you couldn’t help the yelp that escaped your lips when he brought it slamming down on the wooden chair that stood to the side of the crib, splintering it into pieces.  

Another poisonous glare, and he made his exit.

_Daryl._

The archer was still standing in the middle of the room, his arms hanging at his sides, his piercing blue eyes fixed on you as you stepped towards him, waiting for him to say something, hold you, kiss you…  Anything.  Anything that would let you know that it was all okay, but instead you felt your veins turn to ice as his mouth twisted into a mean snarl.  ‘Ya shouldn’a come back here.’


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl sat, his back pressed against the door, his elbows resting on his knees as he waited for you to speak.  You weren’t sure if his position was to ensure that you were unable to escape or whether he’d just dropped to the floor where he stood after letting the rest of the group filter out, but the notion of you wanting to run was laughable.  You had nowhere else to go.  Your bridges with the Sanctuary were definitely burned. You couldn’t keep your body from trembling as you pictured the rage in Negan’s eyes, the betrayal that was seared behind the chocolate irises.  What would have happened if Daryl hadn’t walked in when he did?  What would Negan do when he returned?  He was right, it wasn’t over, and somebody was going to pay for what you’d done.

At long last, Daryl sighed, his eyes finally meeting yours as he chewed on his bottom lip, shaking his head as though unable to find the words he needed to say.  God, all you wanted to do was go to him, to kiss away the frown lines that were furrowing his brow and hold him until all the pain went away.  After everything he’d been through, this was the last thing he needed to deal with, but you had to make him understand.

‘I’m sorry,’ you whispered, leaning your head back against the wall and focusing on a spot on the ceiling. ‘I know what this looks like, but it’s not…  It’s complicated, Daryl.  I never wanted it to end up like this.  I never wanted to hurt you.’

‘Yeah, ‘cause marryin’ the son of a bitch that killed Glenn ‘n’ Abraham, locked my ass in a cell, that was for the good o’ the group, right?’  His tone was accusatory, his gaze piercing as he waited for you to continue. His hands were clenched into fists and you turned your head away, not wanting to see what you’d done to him.

‘I was trying to find something, anything that could help us.  I never betrayed you, I promise, or Alexandria.’

‘Did ya fuck him?’

And there it was.  You had, of course you had.  You knew it and he knew it.  Cheating was cheating, whatever the intentions and, if the roles had been reversed, you would be heartbroken right now.

You nodded slowly, squeezing your eyes tight shut when the archer let out a wounded growl.  ‘An’ ya think that was for me, right?  For us?’

‘I was his wife, Daryl. Do you know what that means?  It means privileges, it means having access to his quarters in a way that nobody else does.  I couldn’t turn that down if there was the slightest chance that it might help us win this war.’

‘Y’know, if ya didn’ wanna be with me, ya coulda just said it, Y/N.’  His voice was a hoarse rasp, and you knew he was fighting his emotions, trying to keep his cool.  ‘Ya didn’ need t’…  Do ya love ‘im?’

‘What?’

‘Negan.  Ya married the guy.  Ya gotta feel somethin’ for him, right?’

‘No!’  Now you did go to him, scrambling across the floor until you were at his side, reaching out to him until he flinched away from your touch. ‘You have to believe me, Daryl, please. I never felt anything with him.  I hate him!  I hate him for what he did to us, for what he did to you.  There was never a day when I didn’t love you with everything that I am, I swear.  I love you so much, you’ve gotta know that.’

‘Thought I did.’

It was like you were watching your life fall apart in front of your eyes and the pain was agonising. The archer was the only one you’d thought about, the only thing that had kept you going through everything, and the doubt in his eyes now…  It felt like a blade being held to your throat, as though with one swift movement he could steal away everything you held dear.  

Edging away from him, you reached blindly behind you until your fingers found the cool bars of the crib, and you snaked your hand through the gap, reaching under the pillow and snagging the papers that you’d stashed there, holding them up for Daryl to see.

‘I brought these.  I thought if I left them in Judith’s crib, someone would find them eventually.  I didn’t know how else to give them to you without… Well, without getting caught.’  That had gone well.  ‘I found them in Negan’s office.  There are maps, Daryl, of the Saviors’ outposts and other communities they’ve beaten down; intel on numbers, weapons…  This could change everything.’

His eyes scanned over the pages as you laid them one at a time in his lap, and you could see the survivor in him kicking in, noting the value of what you were offering.  ‘Negan know you got these?’

‘I’m not sure,’ you admitted.  ‘He knows I’ve got something.  He could tell I’d been snooping in his room.  He saw me putting something in the crib but I thought I’d managed to talk my way out of it.  I-I really have no idea.  So, if we’re going to use these-‘

‘We gotta move fast.’ He nodded his agreement.  ‘C’mon, gotta find Rick.’

He eased himself to his feet, gathering the documents into a pile, and pulling open the door.  

‘Daryl.’  You halted his movements with a hand on his arm, and his gaze finally latched onto yours again.  ‘What about us?  Are we…’   You tailed off, scared of what the answer might be.

For a moment he was silent, and then he shook his head.  ‘Ain’t no time for that now.  We’ll talk later.’

 

* * *

 

‘This is good.’  Rick was poring over one of the maps, spread out on the table in his kitchen, raking over every little detail.  ‘This could win the war for us.’

He turned to you where you sat perched on one of the counters, his eyes wide.  ‘You snuck these back here?’

You nodded.  ‘I probably know more that can be of use, too. I heard a lot.’

‘And this is why you married that creep?’

‘Yeah.  I couldn’t see a way of getting out of there alive, so I figured I’d just bide my time and get as much intel as I could.  Marrying him gave me access to places I wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise.  It was worth the cost.’  You saw Daryl flinch at your words, but you needed the group to understand why you’d done what you’d done if they were ever going to accept you back into the community. ‘I think that bringing me into his harem was just a way for Negan to keep me close.  I don’t think he ever really trusted that my loyalty was to him, but he couldn’t watch me 24/7.’

‘Does he know we have these?’

‘By now, probably,’ you admitted.  ‘But strengthening his outposts, stepping up watches on his other communities… it’s not gonna be quick or easy.  You’ve got a little time.’

‘We need to increase our guard,’ Michonne spoke up from across the room.  ‘He’ll be back here with reinforcements and we need to be ready.’

‘We’ll set up a perimeter,’ the sheriff decided.  ‘A few miles out.  Decide on a signal so we can get an early warning when they come by.’

‘We should send word to Hilltop.’  Rosita had been glaring at you from over by the door, but you hadn’t been taking it personally.  That was her default expression these days.  ‘And the Kingdom.  This information helps them too.’

Rick nodded.  ‘You go to Hilltop, take Tara.  Daryl, I’m sorry to ask, but-‘

‘I’ll go update the King.’ The archer was already walking away, and you sighed loudly as the rest of the group began to disperse.  

‘Thank you.’  Only Rick had remained, sitting down to study the maps more closely, determined not to miss a single thing.  ‘You’ve saved us.  I wasn’t sure…  It wasn’t gonna be easy to win this thing.’

‘It still won’t be. Don’t underestimate him, Rick. Negan’s… tricky.  He’s resourceful and he thinks on his feet.  This is still gonna be a tough fight.’

Though you were engaged in the conversation, your eyes were still on the door that Daryl had disappeared through, hoping that he’d come back for you, but the revving of the bike engine out on the street told you that he was leaving alone.

‘You’ll work things out.’ Rick could see the pain etched across your face, offering you an ounce of hope.  ‘He just needs some time.’

‘Everything I did, I did for him.’  You could feel tears threatening to overflow and spill down your cheeks, and you fought them back, determined to stay strong.  You’d come too far to break down now.  ‘For all of you.  God, it’s not like I was living a life of luxury up there, y’know.  He hurt me.’

The sheriff pushed himself up from the table, making his way cautiously over to you.  You held your arms out to him, and he caught your hands in his, his gaze roaming over the bruises that marred your pale skin.  As his eyes travelled upwards, his fingers crept up to cup your chin, tilting your head so that he could see the blue-grey prints that painted your throat.  ‘Shit.’

‘Hubby likes to play rough.’

‘I’m gonna kill that bastard,’ Rick assured you, pulling you down from the worktop so that he could wrap his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest.  ‘I promise. He won’t get away with any of this.’

 

* * *

 

You couldn’t sleep. You were back at home, in your bed, where you’d dreamt of being night after night as you tried to picture yourself anywhere but curled up in Negan’s arms, except you were alone.  You didn’t even know if Daryl had made it back from the Kingdom or if he’d chosen to stay the night, but wherever he was, it was miles away from you.  You couldn’t get the image of his look of disgust out of your head.  He’d never looked at you that way before.  It made you feel dirty, like the blood that Negan had shed was somehow on your hands too, and you itched to wash it away.

Finally giving up on getting any rest, you climbed out of bed and tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs, letting yourself out into the stillness of the night, the only sound the quiet voices of the guards patrolling the gate talking amongst themselves.

The scent of smoke rose on the air, and you turned to see a dark shadow leaning against the railings, long legs stretched out in front of him, the glow of his cigarette illuminating his frown.

‘Geez, Daryl.  You scared me.’

‘M’sorry.’  He sounded genuinely contrite, and when you dropped to the ground beside him, he didn’t move away.  ‘Didn’ think ya’d be awake.’

‘Couldn’t sleep.’

He nodded.  ‘Got back ‘bout an hour ago.  The King said I should stay but I wanted…’

‘I’m glad you came back.’

He took a long toke on his smoke, his head bowing as he picked at a loose thread on his trousers. ‘M’sorry for how I acted before. Had a lot of time t’ think ridin’ over there ‘n’ I get it, y’know, why ya did what ya did.’

‘I was just trying to help, Daryl.’

‘But I still ain’t sure how t’ get past it, Y/N.  I mean, ya slept with the guy.  How am I sposed to jus’… act like that didn’t happen?’

‘I don’t know.’  It was exactly as you’d feared.  He understood the motivation, but he couldn’t forgive the infidelity.  In all honesty, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forgive yourself.  ‘All I can tell you is that every time, all I wanted was for it to be you.  I used to close my eyes and pretend that it was your hands on me, that I could taste your cigarettes on his mouth, that I could smell engine oil on his skin.  It was the only way to get myself through it. All I’ve ever wanted is you.’

‘Rick said he hurt ya.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’mma kill that son of a bitch.’

You sighed, letting your head fall back against the railings, surprised when Daryl’s hand slipped to the back of your neck and pulled you into him so that you could nestle into the collar of his shirt.  ‘I’m so sorry, Daryl.’

‘Y’ain’t got nothin’ t’ be sorry for.  I’m sorry that I couldn’ protect ya from him.’

You fell to pieces then, sobbing desperately against his chest, your tears soaking through the soft fabric of his shirt and trickling down his skin.  Your fingers fumbled with the buttons, undoing them one at a time so that you could kiss away the salty liquid, his chest hair tickling your nose, and then he was pulling your face back to his so that he could kiss you properly, his lips soft but firm on your own, reclaiming you, making you his again. God, the feel of his mouth on yours was everything that you remembered, everything you needed, and you kissed him back with all you had, losing yourself in him, wrapping yourself around him as he shifted so that he could lay you down on the decking, his body hovering over yours as his lips trailed down your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin above your collarbone.

‘Yer mine, Y/N.’

‘I love you.’

And God, how you loved him. He knew your body better than you did, knew how to make you come undone over and over, until he was all you could see, and the memory of the dark days before had been reduced to nothing.  His arms were strong as they held you to him, his movements so well-timed with your own, the two of you locked in a rhythm that only you knew.  His scent was heady and you were drowning in it, but it was beautiful and peaceful, and you finally felt yourself again as he tensed above you and you both came crashing down.

As the waves of sensation ebbed away, you curled against him, seeking his warmth as the chill of the night crept back in, and his arm wrapped around you, holding against his chest as though he was afraid that you might steal away before the sun rose.

‘What are we going to do, Daryl?’

‘We’ll be fine.’

‘But Negan’s gonna come back and-‘

‘An’ we’ll face him together.’

‘We?  Does that mean-‘

‘It means we’re gon’ take it a day at a time, okay?’  You felt his chest rise and fall beneath your head as he sighed.  ‘I ain’t sayin’ it’s gonna be easy.  I ain’t sure I’m ever gonna be okay with the thought of you ‘n’ him, but I know why ya did it ‘n’ I ain’t mad at ya for it.  I’m mad at myself for lettin’ it happen.’

‘It wasn’t your fault, Daryl.’

‘A lot’s been my fault. But I’m gonna make it all right, and I’m startin’ with us.  Yer my girl, and we’re gonna make it through this.’

‘I’m still your girl?’

‘Yer always gonna be my girl.’  His lips pressed against your hair and you let out a contented sigh.  ‘He ain’t ever gonna hurt ya again, I promise.’

A rumble of laughter erupted from him all of a sudden, making you jump, and his grip on you tightened a little as he waited for you to settle.  ‘Damn, my girl’s a badass, huh?’

‘Sure is.’  You allowed yourself to giggle incredulously, finally acknowledging what you’d achieved, what you’d managed to do for your people.  ‘And don’t you forget it, Dixon.’


End file.
